Here There Be Plotbunnies
by Snickerer
Summary: Collection of short pieces, mostly challenge results. 1. New Book, 2. Not Again, 3. FMA crossover, 4. Chance Encounter
1. New Book

Disclaimer: Own them? Hah, I only wish. Scenario's probably mine, though.

250 words, originally intended as giftfic for Morgan Idril.

As usual, anonymous comments get answered in my profile.

* * *

"Are you sure it should go there? What about right after the Going Under The Water Safely Device?"

"Ook."

"If you really think so..."

The Patrician watched the Librarian perform complex actions with needles and thread, cloth, strange metal instruments, and pots of glues as Leonard peered over his shoulder, fascinated.

Leonard was really _very_ prolific.

Giving him all the paper he wanted kept him quite content, but resulted in an awful lot of paper with valuable and yet incredibly dangerous designs on it. Storing it was obviously a tricky business. Where could you hide something you didn't want lost but couldn't have found?

The Librarian finished working and carefully held the result up for inspection. The Patrician nodded. The new book was masterfully crafted, with a handsome dark green binding.

"I am certain it will have a good home in your library. That book is unique," he said, choosing his words carefully. "It would be a shame if someone should borrow it and perhaps return it in…less than perfect condition."

"Ook!" The Librarian looked affronted at the very idea that he might let anyone else near his new treasure.

The Patrician nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

"Very well. I think we are finished for the night."

The Librarian nodded gravely, and cradling the book to his chest with one hairy arm, he opened the window and swung contentedly out over the rooftops.

Even for him, it wasn't every day one got to preside over the birth of a new book.


	2. Not Again

Disclaimer: See previous. 

Drabble, originally giftfic for Morgan Idril.

As usual, anonymous comments get answered in my profile.

* * *

NO, YOU CAN'T GO WITH HIM, Death explained patiently. IT DOESN'T WORK THAT WAY. 

The trunk creaked its lid and tilted threateningly back and forth on its many legs, the keyhole glaring back defiantly.

DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN INTIMIDATE THE PERSONIFICATION OF DEATH, THE FINAL TRUTH AND ENDER OF ALL THINGS?

The Luggage clacked its lid.

WELL, YOU WOULD BE- Death paused, and looked around.

Rincewind was no longer there.

Neither was Rincewind's body.

When he turned back, neither was the Luggage.

If a seven-foot-tall skeleton could be said to sigh wearily, then Death did so.

NOT _AGAIN_…


	3. FMA crossover

Disclaimer: See previous. 

Double drabble version, originally gift/request fic for Ocianne. Crossover with FMA.

As usual, anonymous comments get answered in my profile.

* * *

"Is _that_ it? Certainly doesn't look like a demon. Awfully s–"

"Archchancellor," Ponder Stibbons interrupted hastily, "it's more formidable than it looks –"

"What, at something other than yelling? Impressive volume, though–"

"–and apparently has preternatural hearing for comments regarding its, ah…apparent age. That's actually part of the delay - we need all three of the students responsible to work out their research and send it back, and two of them are still missing. Apparently there were some…incautious remarks when they first got a look at what their experiment summoned."

"Two? Where's the third?"

"We should have him pried out of the rafters by dinnertime."

"Ah."

They watched the diminutive blond figure in the middle of the hall handily outshout the several wizards around it.

"Well, I suppose a demon can look like whatever it wants to, though I don't know why one might want to look like _that_. Is that a metal arm…? Anyway. While the version with the bits of wood is certainly easier to do in a hurry, I don't think there's any need to tweak it further. Draft an announcement that experimenting with the Rite of AshkEnte is now officially banned, will you?"

* * *

In retrospect, should've had Envy go along for the ride... 


	4. Chance Encounter

Disclaimer: See previous.

Because Big Cat was very persistent about wanting me to write more Discworld, and the plotbunnies provided this bit of crack.

As usual, anonymous comments get answered in my profile.

* * *

"What d'ye reckon it is?" 

"It's a great big box, of course. What else would it be?"

"But it's lookin' at me!"

"How's it lookin' at ye when it's got nae eyes?"

"With the keyhole! Just look at it!"

"Are boxes s'pposed tae have feet?"

"Mebbe it's a special box?"

"Must have summat interesting inside."

"We'd better bring it to the Big Man.

The Luggage shifted slightly, regarding the six-inch-high blue-tattooed figures in front of it with uncharacteristic uncertainty. It knew how to deal with things a lot larger than itself, and how to deal with things roughly the same size as itself, but it hadn't really had to deal with things much smaller than itself before. It would be very difficult to tilt its edge close enough to the ground for it to grab them directly with its lid. That left trampling, which the Luggage promptly tried, only to discover to its considerable surprise that stepping on these things merely resulted in that foot - and leg - being lifted right back up off the ground. And, rather more worryingly, not being let go.

The pictsies, for their part, were having trouble as well. They knew how to bring things with legs back home, but they had never before encountered anything that had more legs than they had Feegles. Matters were further complicated when the Luggage started using its free legs to kick away the Feegles trying to pick it up, who in turn grabbed at the kicking legs, which promptly kicked harder, managing to fling several into the air. One came down within snapping range, and the Luggage lunged, lid snapping shut with finality over the yelling, falling figure.

The Luggage looked smug. But its satisfaction and a preliminary cry of "Waily, waily, waily" were cut short by a dead log being heaved to one side and the just-vanished Feegle climbing out from under it, absently prying off the jaws of the small alligator that had clamped onto his arm up to the shoulder.

"Crivens! It dropped me in a moat!" he complained, then looked at the alligator he was still holding by the tail. "Did find this, though."

There was a brief pause.

And then things _really_ got interesting.

When the dust, yelling, thumps, and twanging of reality finally settled, a few things were certain.

There was a spot in the forest afterward where nothing would grow or even enter if it could avoid it, where the weather above wasn't quite in sync with its surroundings, and from the depths of which light of colors that shouldn't exist sometimes flickered just on the wrong side of visibility.

When the Luggage finally caught up to where its master had gotten to this time, there was a sash made up of tiny tartans draped diagonally over it lid and it looked quite pleased with itself.

When the Feegles got home, they were uproariously drunk, covered in bits of feathers, sand, leather, scales, ribbon, and what looked like the entire cache of a magpie with exceptionally good taste, but not even the claw the size of eight Feegles together was brandished as proudly as what looked like three wooden teeth.

And in far separated areas of the Disc, Rincewind and the kelda both decided, quite sensibly, that they probably didn't want to know why.

* * *

Plotbunnies claim it makes sense, because neither of them quite obey standard dimensional boundaries. I think they're off the deep end, but, then, that's hardly new.  
I may tweak this a bit later. It's suprisingly tough to do Feegle dialogue.  



End file.
